


Waking Up is Hard to Do? or A Change will Do You Good?

by shaynemichele



Category: Psych
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 22:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8262853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shaynemichele/pseuds/shaynemichele
Summary: Domestic fall-themed Shassie fluff for Psychtober.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the title, I hadn't planned one and tried to think of something catchy spur of the moment. I know there are probably some grammar inconsistencies too. This is my first Shassie fic ever. Thinking of them in this situation made me feel all warm and cozy, I hope I was able to convey that. Thanks for reading! Comments welcome!

The summer heat and humidity in Santa Barbara have finally given way to some cooler, drier weather. The air is crisp, the leaves hinting at an explosion of orange and yellow, the morning sun is rising later. Shawn doesn’t like mornings much as it is; but the cooler weather and extended darkness have made him want to hunker down longer; to linger under the duvet cover and snuggle up to the lanky man he shares his bed and life with. 

Carlton only grunts and shifts, still asleep as Shawn briefly rests his forehead against his shoulder. Shawn has to fight the urge to snuggle into his lover’s salt and pepper chest hair; the pull of the stern bush is strong. But he resists, knowing that soon Lassie’s alarm will ring to announce the start of his busy day, and Shawn needs to get up and at it to make sure that day starts off with a special surprise.

He quietly closes the bedroom door behind him and pads barefoot into the kitchen. He flicks the switch on the coffee pot and takes the griddle and Bisquick out of the pantry, careful not to bang too many pots, pans and doors as he goes about gathering his supplies. Jules and Gus are pumpkin spice freaks and couldn’t wait for fall and its abundance of pumpkin/cinnamon/apple/ginger-you-name-it-harvest-spice flavored and scented products. Shawn preferred the summer and its pineapple/tropical fruit flavored themes, but he may as well jump on the bandwagon this year and experiment with the seasonal change. This year was different for him in so many ways anyway. Who would ever think the most important person in his life had previously been the most gigantic pain in his ass. That he would currently be in this person’s kitchen preparing this person breakfast, before the sun came up. It was a giant step in Shawn’s life; to commit himself to this one person totally. To want to do all he could to make this one person happy; to see love and joy reflected back at him from those beautiful blue eyes. He smiled to himself while he mixed the pancake batter. Maybe change wasn’t so bad, after all.

Carlton had responded robotically to the sound of the alarm. He always shut it off quickly; not wanting to wake his boyfriend, who held a much looser schedule and took his beauty sleep seriously. He didn’t notice that Shawn wasn’t still in bed, until he was showered, shaved, and dressing in the suit he had hung on the closet doorknob the night before. It was a habit he had started after Shawn moved in, to minimize disturbances and noise that might disrupt the psychic’s slumber. The scent of coffee reached him and he noticed the light peeking under the bedroom door; the muffled sounds of cooking coming from the kitchen.

He cautiously makes his way around the corner; his cop instincts really never shut off and there is always a tiny possibility someone has kidnapped Shawn and decided to grab some breakfast at the same time. But at least he doesn’t pull his gun from the holster, and he relaxes once he sees his kitchen table. Two places are set; the silverware resting upon orange cloth napkins. There is a centerpiece made up of two small pumpkins and a tiny vase holding bright yellow and rust colored mums. His favorite mug, emblazoned with guns and the phrase “shoot first, ask questions later” is filled with hot coffee; three creams; four sugars. Beside it on the plate is a stack of pumpkin pancakes, topped with a whipped cream heart next to a tiny pitcher containing warm maple-pecan syrup. 

Carlton is stunned; speechless. He sees Shawn, oblivious to his presence, taking bacon from the frying pan while humming some 80’s tune Carlton has heard before but can’t name. For a moment he is jealous of Shawn’s eidetic memory; this is something he wants to savor forever; because nobody has ever done anything like this for him before; not even his mom; not Victoria; and here it is coming from the most unlikely source ever. Shawn Spencer, the most annoying man he had ever met; has gotten up before sunrise and prepared this beautiful fall-themed breakfast, for him. He swallows the lump forming in his throat and enters the kitchen. Shawn turns to him with a bright smile. “Lassie! Good morning! Happy Fall!” 

Carlton approaches him and takes the spatula from his hand; places it on the counter next to the plate of bacon. He stares at him; takes his face in his hands and tries to search for the meaning of all this behind the sparkling hazel eyes. “Happy Fall, Shawn,” he says quietly, and kisses him softly. Shawn tastes of cinnamon and sugar; he must have tested the pancake batter. Carlton doesn’t know what to say; how to express how much he appreciates this; how much happier and more peaceful his life has been since he gave in and accepted Shawn’s love. It must have been love all along; only disguised as annoying behavior just to get his attention; to break through the front of stubborn jackass that he showed most of the time. He didn’t feel deserving of this special treatment; but here it was; all wrapped up in a maple glazed pumpkin flavored breakfast prepared by a pineapple-loving, annoying and loud faux-psychic. His boyfriend; who squeezed him tightly before abruptly jumping towards the kitchen table. “Come on, Lassie; we have to eat before it gets cold, and I have to tell you all about the haunted hayride Jules and Gus want us to go on this weekend…”

Carlton smiles, takes the plate of bacon to the table and sits down across from Shawn, who can't seem to decide whether the pancakes or the upcoming fall festivities are most important right now. Carlton sighs contentedly, dips his finger into the whipped cream for a taste. He washes it down with a sip of perfect coffee and listens to Shawn’s excited chatter. Maybe change wasn’t so bad after all.


End file.
